Dreams
by FerrumVigro
Summary: "Dreams are the touchstones of our character."-Henry David Thoreau. Drabble-fic.
1. Memories and Dreams

_**Disclaimer:**__ I dont own any of the characters or places or anything else you recognize, they all belong to Trudi canavan and I'm just having some fun. ^^_

_**Summary: **__In which Sonea dreams of forgotten memories and Akkarin relives them. _

_**A/N:**__ Just something I cooked up, not too long or meaningful but still...who cares? Each little piece is of a different character and I haven't read the BMT is awhile so sorry if somethings are abit off. Think this might take place in The Notice at some point..Oh and sorry for any spelling miss-ups and what-not...Opps...;P_

**_Update-17/6/11._**

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_**I. Memories and Dreams.**_

_"There are lots of people who mistake their imagination for their memory." ~Josh Billings_

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Sometimes she would imagine she still knew what her mother had looked like. Sometimes she dreams she still knew the sound of her voice.

"Your mother was a beautiful woman. Both inside and out, 'til she met that useless excuse of a man…but she had always remained beautiful…"

She can't remember what her mother looked like and she has never been told she looked like her; therefore she has never thought herself beautiful.

But she dreams.

She dreams of dark eyes and flowing hair and of a flawless complexion and full lips. When she wakes, she no longer can remember what the woman in her dream had looked like and she wonders if she's from memory or imagined.

She doesn't dream often and when she does they are quickly forgotten. She has no time for such things. Dreams are for children and she is no longer a child but when she does fall into that mist of sleep with her mind still running; she dreams of a family, a mother to love her_, _that she never had and of beauty, she will never see, that doesn't belong to her.

Sonea does not dream much and she is grateful for it; dreams only make her wish the waking world was a little bit more beautiful and simple.

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There had been nights, he will admit, that he had woken in a tremulous panic, sweat on his brow and a cry on his lips. There had been days, he knows within his heart, that he longed to feel that freeness he had felt all those years ago when he realised he had evaded Kariko, escaped Dakova's slavery and made it home.

There were times when is mind drifted back to nights he'd slept on the bare ground with nothing but a thin blanket for him to share with seven other slaves. Nights he'd shut out her sobs and Dakova's pleasure and dreamt of his childhood. Days he's followed orders, head touching the ground when called upon, starving and thirsty, having his mind broken into and every thought used against him…

Akkarin knew that despite it being years ago, Sachaka had not left him. Nor would it ever, not matter how much Anuren dark he consumed.

No, Sachaka had never left him and there were nights he dreamt he still lay on that cold ground with blood drumming in his ears and anger in his heart.

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_I fell in love with Akkarin...always do when I read the books..._


	2. Loneliness

_**Disclaimer:**__ I dont own any of the characters or places or anything else you recognize, they all belong to Trudi canavan and I'm just having some fun. ^^_

_**Summary:**__ In which, Sonea lies to herself._

...An Older Sonea...so spoilers for AM.

**Update-17/6/11.**

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**II**. **Loneliness.**

_"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone."-Orson Welles_

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It wasn't that she was lonely, truly it wasn't. She was perfectly fine on her own, she had done so well by herself and when one included all the help and support her family and friends had given her over the years, she truly wasn't alone at all.

But she still felt as though something was missing.

Even though she had Johann and her family, Rothen and Ceryni, the servants and magicians around her and somewhere, where she couldn't reach no matter how badly she longed, she had Lorkin.

Wasn't that enough?

In her mind, yes she told herself, she had so many around her who loved her and cared, those she worked with at the clinic were like family too, in small ways the whole Guild was like her family, with her closest siblings and distance, less known, cousins.

Yes, within her mind, she wasn't alone. Yet her heart told her otherwise.

Within the quiet moments of the day when she would be in her rooms, free of servants and family, a feeling of pure despair would crawl into her heart and strike her like ice. And she would think of how old Rothen and her Aunt were getting and how unsafe and far from home Lorkin was and she would realise how alone she felt, and that despair would flare like fire within her heart.

And then it would pass, she would be left feeling cold and empty, too tired and lonesome. A tingle of magic soon cleared her fears and self pity away and she would continue on as always, remaining strong.

She was fine, she wasn't lonely, truly. She did perfectly fine on her own.

Nights were her worst, when she would dream and nightmares would claim her. Nights she woke crying, tears fresh on her cheeks, her body trembling, and she would reach for someone who was never there.

She was tired of holding her sheets to her at night, cold silk and empty space, she craved warmth and softness, a little tender touch and light breath on her skin.

Sometimes her dreams were nice and wholesome, rendering her apart from her loneliness.

She remembers.

Lorkins baby breath on her breast, even and deep as he slept next to her, the both of them wrapped tightly together, his small chubby hand holding onto her, his soft hair brushing against her chin.

Rothens kind smile and Darryl's laughter ringing in the distance as Lorkin ran circles around the adults feet, robes of all colours twirling in the summer light, the coolness of grass between her finger as she watched from the gardens…_ "He's such an energetic child, isn't he"… "A little mischief maker…he has his fathers eyes…"_

His heat and touch, His voice and gaze piecing through a mist of water, His laughter and smile…_gone…_

Sometimes her dreams turned to nightmares. Her empty sheets her only comfort, she wakes alone and cold.

But she raises and moves on, greets her family and friends with a smile. She is perfectly fine.

She wasn't lonely, truly she wasn't.

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Fankiez ^^


	3. Paradise

_**Disclaimer:** I don't know own any characters or places you recognise; they belong to the lovely Trudi Canavan._

_**Summary:** In which Akkarin finds a piece of Paradise during rest, whilst Sonea finds it in small memories of home._

_**A/N**:*IMPORTANT* This was originally its own story but I've desided to move it here and make 'Dreams' my Drabble/One-shot collection because thats all these small things really are... _

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**III. Paradise.**

"_Paradise is our native country, and we in this world be as exiles and strangers."-Richard Greenham._

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There was sand between his toes.

He usually would have found this an annoyance yet in his situation and current position; it made him want to smile. The warm grainy technique was rough and scraped against the soft skin between his digits, scratching and pleasantly warm; he didn't mind it at all. He was getting used to it.

All slaves walked bared-footed and although he had been accustomed to his heavy leather boots, the change was adaptively welcome if not a little uncomfortable at times on harder terrain. In some ways, it made him feel little again, like a small child; running bare-feet across the beach, the sound of the waves crashing along the shore, the laughter of his brothers in his ears as they give chase…a gentle breeze singing through his cramped and sweaty toes, flexing and curling around blades of grass as the spring trickled behind him, his Guild boots resting on the rocks, Lorlen's disapproving sigh by his side…

"You! Little Magician, stop your day-dreaming and get moving or it will be punishment for you!"

He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, throwing his drenched shirt across his sun-burned shoulders, he rose from the shadows of the rocks, momentarily blinded by the bleak heat and rays of the sun. Dakova murmured angrily as he passed and cast him a hateful glance before gesturing with his hand that it was time for them to move on. He set off at a even pace with the rest of the slaves, Takan coming into step beside him, flashing him a weak smile.

He returned it good-heartedly and set his eyes before him, towards the waste's dry sands and uneven ground.

At least he was still alive.

Little specks of paradise were few and hard to find within the Wastelands of Sachaka, it was like trying to find a grain of gold in a sand-dune, yet he still found them. Dakova could not take them away from him and he knew that as long as he had his spirit, he would continue to find them.

The sand stunk between his toes, scraping roughly at his skin with each step he took, and once again he found himself smiling.

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Her aunt was a wise woman.

Well, that was what she had always been told and it is often found that the wise are usually right.

Jonna told her to stay away from the groups of young boys that roughed about the slums, in her own words they were- "Dungheads and to-be capper's causing nothing but rum for those around them with their foolish nonsense!"

There was a time she had believed her and listened. Her aunt was a wise woman after all.

But then she fell in with a small gang of boys her age when she was ten and met Ceryni- "It's Cery just…"-who was so wild and free, childishly foolish yet brave and smart, who grew to be her best friend whom she cared for like family; she doubted her aunt had any wisdom worth listening to. She had never been as free before as she had been back then.

Together, Cery and her would run wildly through the slums at twilight, laughing, giggling, as they jumped from roof-to-roof, through alleyways and dark passages; for the simple fun of it, to feel to wind through their hair, to feel the mud sink into their boots, to feel the rain on their faces…many nights she returned home, soaked through to the bone, covered in mud and grime, smelling horrid and looking and feeling every part a little boy rather than the girl she was.

Jonna would go mad, shouting and cursing she would drag her by the ear to the bath by the unlit fire, where she would dunk her into cold water and scrub her until her skin was pink and heated.

Yet still she would return the night after to run with Cery and his friends, smiling and laughing, carelessly carefree, being children in a place where children truly didn't exist.

She would fly hand-in-hand with him, his warm and clammy in her cold and dirty one, over rooftops and streets, tears of childish delight in her eyes, thinking it was paradise it a world of dung.

But the dream soon ended.

Jonna had been right, of course. Wise woman always were.

She stopped meeting Ceryni.

She grew up. And so did he.

Yet when she meets him again, years later, she can't help but return his smile, seeing he too remembers the small piece of paradise they once held.

It was one thing no one could take from them and they would never forget it.

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_Reviews are welcomed with open-arms and a hug._


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